


Expectations

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Cock Rings, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom Narcissa Malfoy, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Orgasm Control, Pegging, Sub Lucius Malfoy, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9910367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Narcissa knew most believed Lucius to be the dominant one. Little did they know.





	

Lucius’ hands are tied behind his back, a thick rope crisscrossing over his torso to keep his limbs in place. He’s on his knees atop the bed, his shoulders resting against the mattress, his head turned to the side so he can breathe. His skin is flushed pink with arousal, his long blond hair splayed out over his back.

He was an attractive man in any situation, but like this – pliant, desperate, needy – he was beautiful.

Narcissa drags her nails across his back lightly, appreciating her craftsmanship. Binding him was one of her favourite things to do. It left him at her mercy, her will, and she knows the knowledge that she could do whatever she pleased was as arousing to him as it was to her.

She slides one hand across his ribs, down his stomach. Wraps her soft fingers around the shaft of his cock, lips twitching into a small smile when it pulses in her hand, already leaking. Lucius groans, twisting to look at her; his face pleading for her to do _something,_ to do more.

She tuts softly, free hand reaching for the item resting next to their bodies. “We can’t have you coming early,” she says, sliding the ring to the base of his erection and smirking as he whines lowly. “I want to take my time.”

He has no choice but to let her do what she wants. There is a safe word, of course, though it was seldom used. This – _her_ – it was what he craved.

She prepares him slowly. Carefully. Deft fingers work his body, stretching him open. She draws moans from him, whines; makes him beg in a way he only does for her. Only when his body is withering, when his eyes are watering, does she produce the desired strap on.

It’s a practiced routine, slipping it on and slipping behind him. They do this more than almost anything else.  She rubs at the small of his back, palming the flesh. Sweat makes his skin sticky, makes their arrangement almost uncomfortably warm, but it’s still good. More than good.

She pushes into him with one quick thrust, pausing for a minute to watch his body accompany the intrusion. Truthfully, it isn’t the most stimulating thing in the world. But his reaction – the way his mouth falls open, the way his muscles move under the binds, the way he yields to her touch – it makes it all worthwhile.

She uses one hand to clutch his hip, and drags the other over his back, over his binds. Sharp nails scratch at skin; making him groan. “Look at you,” she says, head tilted to the side. Her tone is one of mock admiration. “So desperate. So needy.”

Lucius groans, and she pushes him further into the mattress, rocking into him gently. She leans over his body, lets her free hand hold his tied ones. Her lips glide over his back, his shoulder, up to his neck. She places a delicate kiss to the spot just below his ear.

“So pathetic,” she whispers, and it’s said like an endearment. “My little wanton whore.”

He lets out a quiet whimper – an actual, pitiful whimper – and Narcissa smirks against his skin. She can see beads of sweat fall from his hairline, down his jaw. It makes his skin glisten under the light.

He groans again, mumbled words falling from his lip, and Narcissa takes pity on him. She doesn’t give him any more time to adjust, just starts to fuck him; quickly, roughly. Her hands hold his body tight enough for her to know the skin will be marked come morning, and all it does is add to the pleasure of it.

Narcissa had made a point, years ago, that she preferred to hear him – to hear every moan, every whine, every cry – and she’s pleased to note that he doesn’t hold back at all now. A steady stream of noise falls from his lips, increasing with every push into his body.

Her hand snakes through the tendrils of hair that rest on his back, moving up to the base of his neck. She grabs a fistful, pulling on it to give herself leverage as she fucks into him. He noise it elicits sounds almost pained, but Lucius doesn’t say anything.

“You take it so well,” she tells him, watching as the strap on disappears inside his body with ease. “I bet you could take more. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Below her, Lucius mumbles something incoherent. She doesn’t bother asking him to clarify; she hadn’t really wanted an answer.

“Of course you would,” she continues. “You’d love to be fucked by more than one person.” She tugs at his hair again, slamming into him even as she speaks. “Do you want me to whore you out? Let strangers have their way with you?” She leans down again, presses another sweet kiss to his shoulder. “You’re always so desperate, darling. You’d bend over for anyone, wouldn’t you?”

Lucius lets out a strangled cry, and Narcissa chuckles softly. “ _Please,_ ” he grunts. “Cissy – _ahh,_ fuck – please.”

“Please what?” she asks. “Use your words, darling.”

“Can I,” he starts, words trailing off to a pleased sigh when she hits his prostate. “Can I come?” he asks, voice breathy and strained, like he’s out of breath. “Will you let…”

“Not yet,” she tells him. “But soon.” He sighs, frustrated, and Narcissa clicks her tongue. “You’re not questioning me, are you?”

Lucius’ reply is automatic; out of his mouth before Narcissa has even finishes the question. “No.”

“Good,” she says, and starts moving again. Her own arousal is getting hard to ignore, the stimulant from the harness a welcome pressure but not _quite_ enough to get her off. Not in this position. She could just let him come, so she can seek her own release, but she wants him to beg. And she knows he will, any minute now…

She makes sure to get his prostate with every thrust, noticing how his remaining control slips with every press against his sweet spot. Just as she’d expected, he asks to come mere minutes after she’d said no. _Always greedy_ , she thinks. Even like this.

She can make out the steady stream of _please, Cissy, please, fuck, Narcissa, please, please, please_ that he mumbles against the mattress, and _finally_ she reaches a hand to his cock, pulling the ring away. “Only when I say,” she tells him, and he nods quickly.

She wraps her fingers around his shaft, using precome to slick her palm. She times each twist of her hand to match the movement of her hips, and keeps it up until Lucius is a sobbing mess below her. She rubs her thumb against the slit of his cock, slams against his prostate one more time, and commands, “ _Come._ ”

Lucius does, instantly. His body shakes with the force of it, thick ropes of come coating Narcissa’s hand, his stomach, their sheets. Narcissa works him through it, watching his body’s movements intently as he comes down; breathing heavily.

Narcissa pulls out of him slowly, slipping the strap on off and placing it to the side before reaching for her wand. With a few murmured words, the ropes binding hid body loosen, and Lucius pushes them off so he can fall against the mattress.

Narcissa tuts. “Don’t get comfortable yet,” she says, fingers rubbing at the marks the binds had left on his skin. “We’re not done.”

Lucius looks back at her, face flooding with understanding, and then rolls onto his back. He adjusts his position, shifting against the pillows, and reaching a hand out; beckoning her.

Narcissa takes it, moving up the bed. She straddles his upper torso, knees falling to either side of his face, and settles against his mouth. Lucius doesn’t need to be told what to do. He steadies her body, holding onto her slim waist with both hands, and starts to kiss her inner thighs. He sucks at the signs of her arousal before gently probing her slit with his tongue.

She pushes back against the pressure of his mouth, and Lucius smiles to himself. He finds her clit easily – this is, after all, a practiced art – and flicks his tongue against the nub; over and over.

Above him, Narcissa grinds against his face, seeking her own release. “Don’t tease,” she orders, and Lucius hums. He brings one hand from her waist to her opening, and dips his finger into the warm heat. She is dripping wet, her juices coating his hand, and withering where she sits.

He presses two fingers into her entrance with ease, sucking at her clit. He can feel her thighs shake as he massages her inner walls; her body staining with the effort to stay upright. Her hands are tangled in the sheets of bed, her body rocking against his face, urging him on. It will happen any minute, Lucius knows, and so he doubles his effort; presses his fingers in faster, sucks harder.

He crooks his fingers _just so_ , and she finally breaks, coming with a loud cry. Lucius keeps licking, sucking, fingering until her body stops shaking. He pulls his hand away, face moving so he can lap at the evidence of her orgasm; tasting her on his tongue.

Eventually Narcissa moves from his body, melting into the mattress next to him with panting breaths. He lets her go, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking the skin before finally wiping at his face and settling beside her.

“Good?” he asks quietly, looking at her through long eyelashes.

“Perfect,” is her answer. She leans forward to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips, and smiles when she pulls away. “Like always.”


End file.
